Why I teach

The first inkling I had that I might be interested in teaching came when I was studying for my master’s degree. I got the opportunity to be what is called a “graduate assistant,” which meant you taught the entry-level classes that regular professors would rather not teach. I was given one class of about 30 students in business communication. I remember that I spent two weeks preparing the first hour-and-a-half-long lecture, and I ended up finishing my lecture in 20 minutes. I was so frightened that first day that I waited out in the hallway until everyone arrived, then came in, looked at my notes on the desk, then at the white board until I summed up the courage to look them in the eyes.

But there was something about being up front in a classroom that lit a spark inside me. I loved having a bit of information that a student might consider valuable, and I especially loved seeing that lightbulb coming on in a student’s mind, when you knew they finally “got it.” I was hooked.

But things worked out that when I finished my master’s, I ended up going to Pacific Press as a book and magazine editor. I had the opportunity several times as an editor to lead out in writer’s workshops, and that kept my love for teaching alive. And I realized something else while I was an editor. More and more, I saw the same names coming across my desk with the same stale ideas for books and magazine articles. And I realized that we needed fresh minds in order to bring those fresh ideas into Christian publishing.

I got my chance to teach when Southwestern hired me to join the communication department in 1998. The first year I taught, it was much like those opening days teaching in grad school. Each night, I would bring home prep work for my classes. And each day I considered myself fortunate to have a job where I could be in front of bright, young minds, horribly afraid that at any moment they would discover that I didn’t know anything and unveil me as the fraud that I felt I was.

That’s one of the secrets of being a professor, after all. We really don’t know all that much. When I finished my classes and my qualifying exam in my doctoral program, and I told my mentor (a brilliant man I still highly respect), “I still don’t feel like I know anything,” he raised his finger to his lips and said, “Shh. That’s the secret.”

If there were any fantasy I could have about teaching, it would be this: I would love to teach in a school where teachers didn’t have to give out grades. Students would come to class because they were eager to learn and couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. We would spend class period in deep discussion about any subject that interested them, and we would all come away, exhausted but at the same time, mentally invigorated.

The closest I come to this is my time each week that I spend with the on-campus Creative Writing Club, the Rough Writers. I came to Southwestern to train Christian writers. And students who come to the Rough Writers are there, not for a grade, but simply because they want to be there. It’s a lot of fun, but we also learn a lot. Together.

School isn’t perfect. There will always be boring teachers, and students who do just the absolute minimum to get by. But it doesn’t have to be that way. It’s a lot more fun when we all realize what the possibilities are.

The Dog Days Are Here, and My Tail Is Wagging

Texas has really weird weather. We’ve had it hot, cold and then hot again in the same week. Today it’s supposed to be 95 degrees and it’s only April. Dog Days are supposed to come in the summer, but it already feels that way.

But I am happy, regardless. Serendipity is a nice thing. Having things fall into place at the right time is always good. Here’s what’s happening to me:

1. I finally received my 1 cent book. I discovered Allen Steele (somewhere; I can’t remember where) as a promising author (promising to me; he’s already won all kinds of prizes including two Hugo awards). I downloaded a sample chapter of his book “Coyote” from iBooks and immediately fell in love. I’d like to say he writes like me (clear, direct writing with not a lot of embellishments), but I haven’t won my Hugo yet, so all I can do is learn from him. Anyway, I found a copy of “Coyote” on Amazon.com for a penny and paid $3.99 for shipping and handling. It arrived yesterday and I am excited that I have something good to read.

2. My daughter has a good shot at a job! Times have been tough for all of us with too many people and too little money to pay bills. She did a good job helping out with the school play, but now it’s time to focus on getting a paying job. The job is in Jefferson, Texas, where she has taught before. It’s not ideal, but what job is? So she is in serious discussion with them, and we are praying that things work out in the meantime.

3. Got the tax man off my back. I have been struggling for a while, trying to figure out how to pay our taxes. Scrimping and saving helped us put together a large chunk of the money that’s due, and after spending 1 1/2 hours on hold, I finally talked to the IRS by phone and arranged to pay the rest over the next 120 days. That’s very doable.

4. Classes are over at the end of next week. Summer is knocking at the door. I already have commitments threatening to take over my summer, but I am not going to let that happen. My personal commitment is to work out every day, and get back into serious writing. I live in hope, which is the real advantage of having a future.

So I am happy. God continues to be good to me and mine.

Why I turned down $150,000

I got home last night late, burdened down with worries. I stopped by the mailbox and grabbed the handful of bills there, then answered my cell as I entered to door of the house. While I was talking to my son on the phone, I flipped through the letters until I came to an innocuous looking one, postmarked in Canada with no return address.

To be brief, it was a company called A&G Financial Solutions on East 42nd Street in New York, stating that I was a lucky winner in the first category of Penguin Books Publishing House Sweepstakes and was entitled to $150,000.

Normally I glance at these kinds of letters briefly before they find their inevitable place in the trash can. But with the letter came a very authentic looking check for $3,450.

“Attached is a check,” the letter said, “for the amount of $3,450 available to you in order to pay the applicable taxes and processing fee. The total amount to be paid is $2,800.”

It went on: “Please contact your claim agent Chad Morris at 1-647-995-5532 for more details on how to process your winnings.”

My first inclination was, Wow, this looks real. I shared it with my wife, who didn’t feel the same optimism. Then I started noticing a few details that sent red flags up:

1. The letter was photocopied except for my name and the date, which was typed onto the page.

2. I went on the Internet and could find no reference to either A&G Financial Solutions or Penguin Books Publishing House Sweepstakes. We later looked for the bank listed on the check—PNC Bank of Jeanette, PA–and noticed that there was no street address and the check misspelled the town Jeannette.

But that check–at first glance–still looks pretty authentic. I did some more reading and learned that the scam is that they expect you to deposit the check and use it to send them the $2,800 in “applicable taxes and processing fees.” When the check bounces weeks later, you are held responsible.

I’m not writing this to boast about how smart I am. I was sorely tempted to go along with the scam. Heaven knows we could use the money.

But I am concerned that others are likely to fall into the same net that I almost fell into. The old saying is true, and I urge you to heed it:

“If it sounds too good to be true, it probably is.”

Advice to the Lost

I consider myself a pretty easygoing guy. Ask my students–at least those who like me–and they will pretty much agree. (At least I hope they agree.)

But the reality is, I have my limits. And those who have seen me reach those limits realize that it’s not a pretty site. I lost it over Thanksgiving when I flew to California, had an airline send my bags to the wrong city, tell me to come get them, had their offices locked when I arrived, then charged me $76 to have them delivered. Ah, but that’s another story…one that you can find elsewhere in this blog if you are so inclined.

But I digress. Today I had something happen in class that, had I not been in a good mood, might have sent me into a tirade. When it happened, I thought it was humorous. At the same time, I think it is getting old.

Ten minutes after I started my Media Law and Ethics class in Barron 105, a student opened the door and looked in the entrance. When I turned to see who it was, he stared at me, as if wondering why I was there, then closed the door. OK, so far so good. Mistakes happen.

Ten minutes later, another student did exactly the same thing. Fifteen minutes later, a third student opened the door and looked in. This was 35 minutes into the class period. Who would come to a class that late, not knowing which class they were supposed to go to? I shook my head, not understanding what was happening.

Someone might argue that people are still trying to find their classes in this, the second week of the semester. My response is this: why wait until the class is almost over to try to find it?

Yesterday, I was showing a film during my Persuasion class in the Library Classroom. I had someone come into the dark room, while the film was going, and ask if that was the Write Spot. Considering that we were showing a movie, I thought it was pretty obvious that we weren’t editing papers. I told him that the writing center had not started yet, and he needed to check back later. He then asked if the hours for the Write Spot were posted somewhere, and I assured him that they would be posted soon.

The Library Classroom is a unique situation. People know that the Write Spot meets there, but they aren’t aware that the room is used for other things. I constantly have people peering through the window or opening the door to see what is going on. Other times, I have had people come in during a class and want to print something off, even though it is clear that a class is in session.

That’s about when I as a teacher take a deep breath, and politely, but firmly, tell the student No, you cannot print your paper during my class, even if it is due in a class right now. Sorry. Learn to plan ahead, preferably before you graduate and expect the same thing of your first job.

So what’s the bottom line in all this? Mistakes happen. An occasional interruption can be handled. But three interruptions in the same class period is a bit much, don’t you think? I don’t think it would hurt students to take a little time to check their facts before interrupting a professor in mid-lecture.

I might not be so jovial next time.

Road Trip!

Shelly and I are helping son Matt move the last of his stuff up to where he and his wife and son are living with her parents in Mead, Nebraska. We leave tomorrow morning several hours before the crack of dawn. It’s a 12 hour drive up there–as far as we can tell–so it will be a long day. I’ll let Shelly get an adequate fix of time with her 18 month grandson, and then we will head home on Tuesday.

I’ve enjoyed having Matt with us for the past week or so, even though I haven’t gotten any writing done during that time. Heaven knows we see him seldom enough. But I will be hitting the old novel as soon as I get back, and hope to be more faithful with blogs and other stuff as well.

In the meantime, I’ll see you around.

Hooky

Shelly and I are into the busy time before Christmas. Not only the demands of work, but Christmas stuff, has pulled us apart. Therefore I am glad that she suggested I go with her on a business trip to Wichita Falls today. I suppose I could be in my office, finding stuff to do. But I have a greater responsibility to my wife and my marriage. Therefore we are driving two hours northwest to Wichita Falls. Shelly will be in a meeting this afternoon. Then we will take our time coming back tomorrow. I have to be back by 7 p.m. for the Rough Writers’ Poetry Slam tomorrow night. Otherwise, we have time for each other.

And oh, BTW, the results of the consultants’ visit came in last night. They suggest we had at least another faculty member and add a Mac lab; things I already knew we needed. And I was worried….

See you tomorrow.

Consultants

Our department at the school has consultants visiting.

We’ve been struggling a bit, our numbers are down, and we’ve all been scrambling to find the answer to drawing more students into the program. I’ve been doing recruiting trips to Adventist academies in this region, as have others in the department. In the meantime, administration thought it would be a good idea to get an outside perspective.

I should be confident in my teaching abilities. I have 25 plus years experience as a writer and editor, and 12 more years experience as a teacher in the college classroom. And I am pretty confident in my strength areas. It’s when I teach 12 different classes over a two year rotation and some of them aren’t in my strength area that I get nervous. When you go into the classroom as a college professor, they don’t teach you how to teach. The common idea is if you know your content, and the rest of it would come naturally. Well, graduate school taught me that there are people who know their stuff and still can’t teach. Our tutorial on Dreamweaver that we are suffering through right now is a good example of that. And that’s a little bit of embarrassment.

So since my first calling was doing it in the industry rather than teaching it, I am always a little apprehensive when it comes under scrutiny. Today they came in and sat through my Visual Communication class with the Dreamweaver tutorial featuring the woman who knows Dreamweaver but lacks in communication skills. And we struggled through as we always do. When it comes to learning new things, I often learn it right beside my students. Not ideal, I know, but what can I say?

Tonight they will announce their verdict to us right after they meet with administration. I doubt that there will be any earth-shaking surprises. Actually, I am hoping they surprise us with some ideas we haven’t thought of. In the meantime, I will continue to do things as I think they should be done.

I’ll let you know tomorrow if any news comes out of the meeting.

My Fight with Frontier Airlines

I’ve been waiting a while to write this blog. I lost my temper today and I don’t like it when that happens. But I am like a slow simmering pot. It takes a while—and for the most part I am pretty patient—but when I come to a boil, watch out.

The problem is Frontier Airlines. Remember that name: F-R-O-N-T-I-E-R. Even if things are resolved amicably in the end, I will never, ever take their airline again. The other lesson I learned is to avoid connecting flights, especially ones that connect at night. If I hadn’t connected in Denver, none of this would have happened.

Here’s the story:

DAY 1: I catch a flight out of DFW at 7:30 p.m. my eventual destination is Sacramento, California. Our flight is delayed, but they reassure us that we will make our connecting flights. We arrive in Denver 15 minutes before my plane to Sacramento is scheduled to board. It’s at the gate right next door. When I deboard, I discover that it has been delayed from 9 p.m. until 12:09 a.m. due to fog in Denver. Others tell me they have been camped out in Denver all day. Two elderly ladies I talk got up at 3 a.m. and left Cleveland only to sit in Denver all day. Finally, at 1:30 a.m., my flight is cancelled. I go to the desk at the gate and the agent gets me onto a flight to San Francisco at 8 the next morning. If I want to go to Sacramento, she tells me, I will have to wait until 9:30 the next evening to leave. I catch a shuttle to a hotel 15 miles away and catch 4 hours of sleep, get up at 5:45 and return to the airport.

DAY 2: I check in at the gate for the San Francisco flight and ask them, “Are you sure my bag will be on this flight?” They reassure me that yes, my bag will be on our flight. I arrive in San Francisco around 10 a.m. and my sister meets me. Unfortunately, my bag does not. I check with the baggage office for Frontier Airlines. I anticipate the clerk using her computer to enter the number for my bag and locate it, but instead she refers to a handwritten list of phone numbers on a sheet of paper on the wall. She calls Sacramento Airport, who say, yes, my bag is in Sacramento. How did it get there when I couldn’t? I don’t know. They ask if I want it delivered or if we want to pick it up. Since we are driving from San Jose to Oroville the next day via Sacramento, I tell her we will pick it up on that day.

DAY 3: We drive from San Jose to Fresno, where I visit my nephew and his family. His baby boy is in the hospital. We leave there and head for Sacramento. At 3:30 I get a call from Frontier Airlines telling me they close in 30 minutes. At that point, we are two hours away. I got a shower and a toothbrush, but am wearing the same clothes for three days and haven’t shaved. This is getting old. Frontier tells me that the next shift will arrive at 7 p.m. We arrive at Sacramento Airport at 6 p.m. and wait until way after 7. No one from Frontier ever arrives. We continue on to Oroville.

DAY 4: Nearing the end of my patience, I call Frontier Airlines in the morning and ask to have my bag delivered to Oroville, 1 ½ hours north of Sacramento. They tell me that because I didn’t “declare” my bag and ask to have it delivered initially, Frontier Airlines is not responsible for delivering it. I lose it at that point, and my sister takes the phone away from me. She learns that it will cost $76 to have it delivered to Oroville. We continue to complain, and they say that we are free to file a complaint to the airlines, which we promptly do.

So I am sitting in my sister’s living room in the same clothes for the past four days, spending the day waiting for my suitcase to be delivered. I understand that traveling is hectic at Thanksgiving, that weather cancellations happen. What I don’t accept is being told things that aren’t true, or not being told vital policy information that I need to know. And finally, being told that it is my fault. I have filed a complaint with Frontier Airlines, but I am not too optimistic about their response.

This adventure is not over. I will keep you posted.

 

ROUND TWO EDIT: Today I got a form letter email from Frontier apologizing in polite computer-generated way with an offer of $75 off the next time I fly Frontier Airlines. Fat chance.

Being vs. doing

One of the things I tell my students is, “Every good idea I ever had I stole from someone else.” What I really mean to say is that inspiration is based on awareness of the things that happen around you, and a synthesis of those ideas.

With that in mind, Pastor Mic Thurber’s sermon this past Sabbath stirred in me memories of my own experiences. What happened to me usually makes more sense when compared with the words of others. Inspiration welcomes collaboration.

Pastor Thurber’s sermon was on the Second Coming, a topic that one rarely hears from the pulpit in Adventist circles anymore. One point that he made struck home with me. It’s not about whether Jesus comes in 48 hours, or in 48 years. It’s all about being the people who want Him to come, and are ready for Him to come at any time.

Hearing that made me flash back to my own experience 15 years ago. I’d just spent two years planning and another year launching a national magazine. My team and I poured our hearts and souls into the endeavor. I knew beyond a doubt that editing the magazine was what I had spent my entire life preparing for; this was the work God had for me to do. A year after launch, however, we got the word that the publishing house was discontinuing the magazine.

I struggled with the news, wondering why God allowed it all to happened. I prayed and wept, and finally the answer came to me, in as close to an audible voice as one could expect. It’s not about what you do, God told me. It’s about who you are.

I didn’t quite understand the implications of that message at first, but I have had a decade and a half to think about it. And my experience has reinforced that for me. Time and time again I have had successes and failures in life, and more and more I realize that what we consider success doesn’t even register as success in God’s eyes. We look at numbers; he looks at individuals. We measure in the ways of the world; He measures through the eyes of eternity.

Take tithe, for example. God wants us to return to Him ten percent of our income. It’s easy to believe that the money is important because of all the Christian work that still needs to be done. Churches need to be built; pastors need to be paid. But then our selfishness kicks in and we think, God doesn’t need my money. He has the cattle on a thousand hills, doesn’t He?

And that’s the truth. It’s not about God needing OUR money. It’s about us recognizing that the money isn’t OURS to begin with. It’s about getting rid of our selfishness. When you think about it, sin is all about selfishness. God wants us, not our money. And to get us, He has to teach us to give up those things that are holding us back.

It’s not what you do. It’s who you are. Students who are fixated on going through the hurdles, writing the papers, memorizing the facts in order to get that piece of paper that says they have finished school need to remember that. I try to tell students that a diploma is worthless unless it represents the finished product: you. What will you know when you finish? What skills will you have? What kind of adult will you be? That’s what education is all about.

That’s not to say that what you do isn’t important. What you do helps you become who you are—and who you want to be. But we need to be careful not to think that the process is more important than the product.

They say that the only thing you’ll be able to take with you to heaven is your character. Who you are. It’s not about finishing tasks, unless that task is becoming more and more like Jesus every day.

 

Fixed

A new day, and a different perspective.

For those of you who read yesterday’s blog, I will admit I was pretty far down in the dumps. Today is a different story.

What made the difference? Today was the first time since my surgery three weeks ago that I had the opportunity to work out.

Visiting the fitness center is not always my favorite thing to do, especially when the alarm goes off at 5 a.m. But it makes a world of difference in my attitude after the fact.

This morning, following my doctor’s advice, I took it not so hard. I didn’t do any strength training, and instead put 30 minutes into the recumbent bicycle. And that did the trick.

Funny how the state of your body can affect the state of your mind.

Tonight, Shelly and I are running away to Granbury to play newlyweds. Have a great weekend. I know I will.